


Giri and Ninjou

by nouvellebrielle



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouvellebrielle/pseuds/nouvellebrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being yakuza had its ups and downs. Well, mostly downs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giri and Ninjou

**Author's Note:**

> While not exactly rape, this fic contains issues concerning consent. To err on the side of caution, I decided to include the warning. Please tread carefully!
> 
> Written for the prompt: Fuck or die--Any kind of situation that leads to 58 having reluctant but fantastic sex is welcome (a third party forcing them, any kind of drug or poison that requires sex as antidote, an alien invasion that can only be repelled by the chosen ones having hot sex, undercover mission with the risk of blowing their cover if they don't fuck... every lame excuse is welcome). Bonus points if they're not close friends.
> 
> Lots of thanks to [ **avierra**](http://avierra.dreamwidth.org/) for her beta awesomeness and advice! I touched this last, so any mistakes are mine. Glossary of Japanese terms relating to the yakuza at the end of the fic.

Banri was such a fucker sometimes.

That was the first thing Gojyo thought upon regaining consciousness.

He’d been making his rounds through the sex clubs in Kabukicho, making sure that no punks were encroaching on Yamakawa-gumi territory or giving their girls a hard time. Well, a harder time than normal, because really, nothing got much harder than being snatched up from thousands of miles away and then forced into prostitution. Personally, Gojyo did what he could during his shifts to cheer the girls up. Buy them drinks, get takoyaki takeout from his own salary, it wasn’t much—okay, it was pathetically little—but he did what he could and hoped secretly that they would escape from that fucking shithole one day, go back to their families or start a new life far away from the red light district if they had no one waiting for them at home. It would be awesome. He would be so fucking glad for them, unless it happened on his watch, then he would most certainly be missing a couple of finger joints, if not his whole useless, wasted life and perhaps that was what this was about—

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What in the fuck.

His wrists were bound. They had covered his head, dried blood sticking the scratchy burlap to the gash on his temple from where Banri’s nameless _Jun-kosei-in_ had struck him with a bottle after wrestling him into a deserted alleyway. Stupid idiots. If only Gojyo could be sure that this was some kind of misunderstanding, he’d kill them later for insubordination.

From a ways behind him came the shriek of rusted steel shutters, followed by a soft patter of feet, quickly approaching. Suddenly, it was obvious where he was and what was happening. He had seen it too many times himself to not suspect what was coming next.

A wave of fear crashed down in tingles over his skin. It was impossible not to squirm even though his legs felt bruised and battered from where they must have thrown him unceremoniously about.

Something hit the ground next to his knees with a soft _whump_. He could feel body heat radiating through the threadbare wool of his slacks. A person, then, and still alive, although judging by his sharp, ragged breathing, the poor bastard had been given an even worse welcome than Gojyo had.

There was the click of a lighter, than someone was ripping the sack off to leave behind a fresh well of pain where the wound leaked blood anew.

‘The hell,’ Gojyo said, and spat out a wad of saliva onto the floor. His mouth tasted like metal. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the rows of florescent lights, each beam overhead burning into the insides of his eyelids with a glare that exacerbated his migraine.

They had him in a warehouse of sorts, judging by the number of containers and the excessive use of grey cement in the interior design. It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was by rigorously going through the territory held by their _kumicho_ and eliminating the less likely options. Probably Odaiba waterfront. He couldn’t confirm his guess; there were no windows. But of course there were no windows. So far everything was proceeding as expected, although that really was just cold comfort.

Then he looked down, and it all went to hell.

‘Banri,’ he said, low and urgent as he took stock of the man next to him. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?’

‘Yo, Gojyo,’ that asshole said, friendly and engaging like they’d just met at a pub for drinks. ‘No hard feelings, yeah? I’m just following orders.’

Ropes knotting across his body in a parody of _kinbaku_. Collared shirt, light trousers, cuts across his cheek where his glasses must have gotten smashed into his face, and—Gojyo’s heart contracted. Bright blood pooled steadily into white cotton.

‘No way these are the orders,’ Gojyo protested, tone rising with panic. ‘We’re gonna be in so much shit, dammit, get something to stop his bleeding—’

‘Whoa, calm down,’ Banri said, irritatingly at ease for someone who was going to die in a couple of hours if he didn’t listen to Gojyo right about now. ‘He’s bandaged up already, it’s not gonna kill him. Idiot must have torn the wound open while wriggling against his bonds like a grade A pornstar, eh?’

The _Jun-kosei-in_ tittered like he’d said something particularly witty. Gojyo wasn’t in the mood to laugh at all.

He tried to stand. It didn’t work. ‘What the hell’s so funny?’ he said, when Banri laughed harder like all this was just one big, sick joke. ‘There’s gonna to be war, stupid bastard, do you even know who the fuck he is?’

Banri had drawn up a stool, flanked on both sides by his brawny trainees; the fucker was flashy like that, liked to playact like he was already an authorised _oyabun_ when really they were nothing more than a couple of mindless muscles, bullets that flew when fired, wherever they were fired.

‘Yeah, I know who he is,’ Banri said. He was smoking Gojyo’s cigarettes. ‘But y’know, the question our oya specifically told me to ask is: do you?’

Gojyo’s blood ran cold. Their _oya_ was a direct ‘child’ of their _kumicho_ and liked people to remember it. Nothing good ever happened to his ‘children’ when they messed up.

‘What do you mean,’ he said, struggling to keep up his cocksure attitude. ‘Everyone knows who he is, man, who wouldn’t? The youngest _saiko-komon_ of Fujiwara-kai—’

.Banri leaned forward to peer at Gojyo intently.

‘Yeah? Got that from reading the papers, did you?’

It had all pieced together perfectly about five minutes ago. Gojyo was just having a hard time believing that this was happening to him.

Gojyo threw a furtive glance down. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘why the hell’s _kumicho_ on my case, I haven’t done anything, man, I swear.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s what I told the bigwigs, right?’ Banri grinned apologetically. ‘You know I look out for you, brother. But see, here’s the thing. Lately someone’s been dishing out information about our operations in your patrol zone. Real valuable shit too, apparently,’—he stubbed the cigarette out on the sole of his shoe—‘the kind that gives inroads into our territory to all sorts of rivals.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Rivals like Fujiwara-kai,’ he said, gesturing casually at his other captive.

Well, fuck. This wasn’t just a simple matter of _yubitsume_ anymore. If they decided he was guilty, if he even so much as made one wrong move here…

‘Come off it, man,’ Gojyo said, words coming out hoarse. ‘I don’t know—I have never—’

Banri’s gaze shifted. Gojyo couldn’t help but follow it.

Cho Hakkai, age unknown, although Gojyo could hazard a guess that they weren’t too far off in that aspect at least. Everything else was like a world’s difference. The legally adopted son of his _kumicho_ , he’d become a senior diplomacy advisor for his family just earlier in March that year, during _Hanami_. It had been a big thing; broadsheet coverage and armed bodyguards crawling all over Philosopher’s Path like black soldier ants. The year before that, he’d been all over the papers too, for slaughtering his sister’s rapists.

Cho had shifted from his uncomfortable sprawl at some point, kneeling down like he was on _tatami_. Gojyo hadn’t even heard him move. He had his head bowed, hair falling into his eyes to obscure his face from view.

‘So you want me to tell them that you’re clean?’ Banri asked.

‘Yeah, of course,’ Gojyo shot back, quenching down on the miserable surge of hope. If only it were that easy. ‘And while you’re at it, I think you better give Fujiwara-kai its kid back, or we’re all gonna get mangled by his fucking daddy.’

Banri smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. ‘Y’know, that’s kinda the whole point.’ He stood up, walked over to where Gojyo was, used the tip of his boot to tilt Hakkai’s chin upwards as he stared down at the both of them.

‘War, Gojyo,’ he said. ‘The higher-ups ask for it, we just deliver like good _kumi-in_ , eh?’  
A sinking feeling weighed in the pit of Gojyo’s stomach.

‘How the hell did you get him?’ he said, jerking his head in Cho’s direction. He was a brave bastard, Gojyo had to give him that, watching as Cho matched Banri’s condescending bullshit with an impassive front.

‘Hell, it was easy,’ Banri said, obviously pleased at the memory. ‘Maybe a little too easy, eh? All Iisou had to do was wave his fucking mug on camera and the moron fell for it.’

Iisou. One of Yamakawa-gumi’s countless hitmen, but with a little bit of extra-psycho sadism on the side.

Gojyo closed his eyes. So the kumicho had been planning to hit Fujiwara-kai all along. Really, he was a goddamned idiot for not noticing.

‘So what? You’re gonna kill him now?’ Gojyo asked dully. Cho’s eyes flickered towards him for a fleeting instant.

‘Nah,’ Banri said. ‘I’ve thought it all out already. As your good senior, I really wanna help you prove your innocence, y’see?’

The trainees had guns out, Gojyo realised. They were trained on both Cho and him, and the nearest was a whole two metres away. There was no way Gojyo was taking Banri out without turning into perforated cheese. He was going to have to play along.

‘You want me to kill him.’ Pin the dirty work down on Gojyo for when the cops come sniffing.

Banri shook his head, like he was disappointed at Gojyo’s lack of imagination. ‘Oi, you’re not giving me enough credit here, man,’ he said. ‘I’d already thought about how we can all have a little fun while you convince me that you’ve got nothing to do with pretty boy here.’

Dimly, Gojyo realised that one of Banri’s goons was holding a camcorder.

‘Fuck, Banri, what—’ Gojyo struggled against his wrist ties.

‘ _Kumicho_ wants to send a good clear message, so I gotta record this one on HD yeah?’ It hurt to see Banri grinning at him like that. For what it was worth, Gojyo’d thought they’d been sort-of buddies. You could never rely on Banri for anything but a light and a tasteless joke, but that had been better than nothing some nights.

‘Fuck.’ Gojyo pressed his knuckles to his eyes in resignation. ‘Alright, I get it. I do what you want and you tell them all that I had nothing to do with whatever shit’s happening.’ His skin was feverish and there was a sick twisting in his gut. He’d always known that it would end up like this.

‘Good boy,’ Banri said. ‘So on with it then. In a good show of loyalty, you’re gonna tear him to little pieces and deliver the disc to Fujiwara HQ in Kyoto. But you’re gonna fuck him first.’

‘What? No way!’ Gojyo struggled to his feet. ‘I don’t do men, Banri,’ he said, throwing a frantic look at Cho, whose eyes had hardened imperceptibly.

‘You do now, brother.’ Banri snapped his fingers in the direction of his men. ‘Oi, someone cut him loose. He’s gonna need his hands to get a good grip on that ass. C’mon, Gojyo. You don’t have _giri_ towards him so you’re not gonna stop when he begs you to, eh?’

Cho spoke suddenly.

‘That’s not going to work,’ he said with a deadly calm.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. _Giri_ or no, I’m not going to beg, Banri-san.’ His eyes snapped upwards sharply at Banri, whose smile was starting to slip. ‘So you’ll never know if he’s a mole or not.’

‘What, he’s been told to deliberately disobey you in this kinda situation?’

Cho was looking at Gojyo now. His eyes were like a dead weight on Gojyo’s chest and he held Gojyo’s gaze deliberately as he said his next words.

‘There is nothing to disobey because I won’t ask him to stop.’

Banri sneered. ‘We’ll see,’ he said, returning to his stool.

Someone cut Gojyo’s bonds, disappearing out of reach as quickly as Gojyo’d been approached. The guns were an unwavering presence in his periphery, a constant reminder that either way, Gojyo was fucked and that their chances of getting the hell out of this one were pathetic at best. He was going to have to do this shit and pray that God was watching over losers tonight.

Cho didn’t seem fazed when Gojyo turned to face him, reluctant fingers fiddling with his slacks button. With his neat haircut and deceptively mild demeanour, he didn’t look a whit like yakuza. More like _shingiin_ or _kaikei_ and fuck did that make Gojyo feel guilty. Despite the cuts and the unhealthy pallor, Cho’s face was almost too pretty and his eyes were wide and clear as they watched Gojyo with an unnerving patience. In any other circumstance, Gojyo’s cock would probably have been more than happy to make an exception to the female rule. But this was wrong. This was filthy in ways Gojyo’d never been. More than even that, it was dishonourable. Maybe Yamakawa-gumi didn’t care, but Gojyo didn’t become yakuza to do shit like this.

‘I’m not a rapist,’ Gojyo said, throat coarse with regret for what he was about to do.

‘I know,’ Cho said softly. ‘But it’s all right, really.’

And then he leaned forward and took Gojyo’s zipper in his mouth.

The camcorder beeped into hasty action. Amid the chorus of cat-calls and jeers, Gojyo could feel Cho drawing the zipper down, chin nudging slightly against the front of his trousers.

‘You’ll have to undo the button yourself,’ Cho said, strangely apologetic. ‘I’m afraid my hands are tied at the moment.’  
Gojyo complied without realising.

‘Trousers and underwear, Gojyo-san. Please lower them.’

Fuck, was he even serious? Five minutes away from what was destined to be the worst sex in their entire lives, and he was politely asking Gojyo to undress.

‘You heard him, Gojyo,’ Banri called. ‘Give him what he wants, he’s fucking gagging for it.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Cho murmured, but he licked his lower lip, wordless encouragement for Gojyo to proceed on.

What could Gojyo do? He rustled the fabric around, just enough that he reluctantly freed his cock from its constraints, half-erect, half-flagging, and very much in two minds about the whole thing like Gojyo was.

This didn’t seem to bother Cho very much at all. He leaned forward, straining against his bonds as he nuzzled his cheek against the flaccid length, which was slowly starting to straighten with attention. Then Cho turned his head and pressed his mouth to the tip, gentle like a kiss, before he flicked his tongue out for a taste.

Gojyo sucked in a breath and shuddered at the sudden rush of arousal. His cock quivered against Cho’s lips, which parted to welcome it with a soft suckle. Through the pounding of blood in Gojyo’s ears, he could hear Banri saying something about internet pornography. Fuck, but Gojyo was losing focus.

Cho’s mouth was closed over the entire head by now, head bobbing lower as he took more and more of Gojyo, lead downwards in incremental strokes of his tongue across the bottom of the shaft. Gojyo’s hand flew unbidden to clasp at Cho’s hair, wanting to feel that hot sucking wrapped across his entire length, only to release quickly when Cho pulled back, straight off, keeling forward to brace himself against Gojyo’s thigh. He was burning up, Gojyo realised, sliding his hand down along Cho’s neck. Cho’s breath was coming in short pants, more pain than desire although Gojyo could see the outline of an erection on his trousers, humiliatingly emphasised as it pushed between the knots of his ties.

‘You all right?’ Gojyo asked, dropping to one knee to try and check Cho’s wound. The idea of fucking a dying man was taking the wind out of his sails again, so as to speak.

Cho gave a shaky laugh. ‘I’m not sure I’ve been worse,’ he admitted. ‘I think you’re going to have to take over from here.’  
Gojyo looked over to where Banri was watching them, eyebrow raised.

He swore under his breath, running fingers through his hair in agitation. ‘Sure you can—’ He gestured helplessly at the space between them, somehow managing to imply fucking with a general sweep of his hand.

‘Oi!’ Banri yelled. ‘He’s not your wife, y’know. What’s with all this considerate shit?’

‘I’m sure I better be able to,’ Cho said, with a touch of wryness. He slid cautiously to the side, then shifted until he was lying splayed on his front, rope around his ankles linked to his neck in a way that left his ass jutting up, legs conveniently parted to accommodate Gojyo.

‘You’re gonna tear the wound further,’ Gojyo muttered, although one quick look and he already knew why Cho wanted to be taken that way. And damn if it wasn’t getting him hot again, his cock twitching as he took in the spread laid out before him.

‘Then you’d better hurry up and come,’ Cho said, slightly muffled in his own shoulder.

Gojoy turned to Banri. ‘I’m gonna need something to cut his trousers with,’ he said, making an awkward shot at being brash. It was difficult, with your pants down and your cock swinging for everyone to see. ‘Who the fuck does _kinbaku_ on a fully dressed person?’

Banri rolled his eyes. ‘Go help him get some,’ he said to a trainee, the same one with the quick knife. The trainee was over in three strides—guns, Gojyo reminded himself to behave—and with a clever flick, Cho’s trousers were split at the back, right through his boxers, to reveal the cheeks of his ass. His skin was heavily tattooed there, much like the peeks of collarbone Gojyo had snatched from where Cho’s shirt had fallen open.

Tail of a white dragon, sakura, a curling wisp of vines that teased from underneath the obstructing fabric. Gojyo had palmed the lovely swell Cho’s ass without even realising, unable to resist bending over and tracing the perfect lines of art with the tip of his tongue. Cho moaned softly, his uneven breathing falling into mumbled, indistinct pleas of pleasure as Gojyo dipped a finger further and further between the crack until it rubbed at the tight hole there. Cho sighed, tried to gather more leverage to push back onto Gojyo’s finger, but Gojyo had stopped short.

Fuck. It wasn’t like he’d never had anal sex before, there were a couple of girls that had been really into it. But. No condoms and no lube.

‘Sorry,’ Gojyo said, in muttered rush. ‘I’ll just—yeah…’ He parted both cheeks with his hands, staring at the tight rim of muscle before licking experimentally over it.

Cho’s breathing hitched.

‘Oh,’ he said, half-lost in a gasp as Gojyo probed the tip of his tongue past. Slowly, he wriggled it inside, flicking and curling, getting it as wet as possible, until he was fucking Cho zealously with his tongue, the delicious writhing underneath his body making it difficult to care that he was being filmed, that Banri was probably getting off on this shit, that he was going to find himself at the bottom of the sea if he carried out Banri’s orders like a good dog.

‘Easy,’ Gojyo murmured, crawling up to line himself against Cho’s back, rubbing his erection between the cleft of Cho’s ass, precome leaving shiny smears on the colourful skin. Gojyo hefted Cho up slightly to take the strain off the injury as he slid his fingers into Cho’s mouth on the pretext of putting up a good show. What he really wanted to do was talk.  
‘I’m gonna cut you loose,’ he whispered, tight and hot against Cho’s ear like he was muttering sexy filth. ‘Try to make it unobvious, yeah?’

Cho lapped at his fingers in messy wantonness, head thrown back, eyes full of dark promise as they met Gojyo’s own. Crazy bastard. This was what he’d expected from the start, probably, choosing to lie down on his front to display the ushiro takatekote that kept his hands firmly immobilised.

‘Hurry,’ Cho said and Gojyo did not need to be told twice. He pressed one slick finger, feeling some of the tight resistance ebb, but it was still going to hurt. He added another when he thought that Cho could take it, aware that Banri’s eyes were burning into his back and any minute now, they’d be forcing him to get on with it.

‘C’mon,’ he said, into the back of Cho’s neck, as he scissored his fingers, adding a third to try and nudge the resistance out of it. Cho’s breathing was coming in short ragged gasps now, pain or pleasure Gojyo didn’t know, but he pressed deeper in until he found the angle he’d been looking for.

Pleas spilled out of Cho’s mouth, mindless and eager and he bore back onto Gojyo’s fingers, fucking himself roughly. Banri chose that moment to interrupt.

‘Think you’re filming some gay vanilla porno? Get the hell on with it, will ya?’

Gojyo flipped him off.

‘I’m not gonna chaff my cock off for your delight, you sick bastard,’ he all but snarled, angry in a way he hadn’t been for a long time now.

‘Gojyo,’ Cho was talking, a rampant stream of desperation that distracted him from Banri’s glowering. ‘Gojyo, please, _please_.’ It was like he’d forgotten all his honorifics and manners, everything thrown to the wind in the face of sex. He really was getting off on this somehow, tied-up and bloodied and used, all supposedly against his own volition. It was surreal, watching him unravel from his pristine three piece suits to come apart just because of Gojyo. Briefly, he wondered what it would be like to get fucked by Cho.

‘Okay,’ Gojyo said quietly, pressing his lips to the cold curve of Cho’s ear. ‘I’m gonna do this now, a’right?’ He stroked himself, trying to spread the precome as much as possible down the length, before lining himself up between Cho’s spread thighs. Careful to avoid the injury, Gojyo wrapped an arm around Cho’s chest, hauling him up and backwards to lean against Gojyo’s shoulder before he pushed upwards and into the tight heat waiting for him.

Cho’s mouth fell open. His eyelashes fluttered down, black against his skin and he was just fucking gorgeous, voice breaking into a litany of quiet moans as Gojyo sank in deeper.

It was way too easy to lose himself in the moment. Gojyo resisted the urge to thrust in, manhandling Cho into a position where he could reach for the blade stitched to the inside of his trousers without anyone noticing. He reached between the tight press of their bodies to find Cho’s hands, tried to nick their bindings open without slicing a hole in his own chest.

Banri was still watching. _Guns_ , Gojyo thought, hazy through the aching pulses of pleasure that were building up in his cock. He toppled Cho over, wincing at the surprised grunt of pain Cho elicited. That split second of distance was all he needed to free Cho, a glint of silver in the shitty lighting and the bastards were none the wiser.

Gojyo threw an arm out to bear his weight, conveniently sliding the knife under Cho’s free palm, smiling when he felt fingers curl over his own to grasp at the hilt. The other arm he used to lift Cho’s leg as he slid back inside in one smooth glide. He was fucking in deep and fast now, Cho arching his spine to meet each thrust with a violent neediness. The noises were the making echoed through the warehouse, jarringly vulgar and _hot_ like the sweat-slicked slapping of Gojyo’s balls against the back of Cho’s ass each time he bottomed out.

They were going way too hard about this, and at the back of his mind, Gojyo was aware that he should slow down, shouldn’t even be doing this at all, that Cho was going to tear something and then there would be hell to pay—  
Cho tensed, and it was all the warning Gojyo got before he came untouched in his trousers with a shudder and a strangled cry. The clench of Cho’s muscles around his cock was too much to bear and Gojyo buried himself in with abandon, chasing frantically after the climax that hit a few seconds later, spilling hot into Cho’s body in convulsive spurts.  
‘Do it,’ Cho whispered, turning his head to the side to see Gojyo. There was a pink flush on his cheeks, and he looked sleepy except for his eyes, which glinted with purpose. Gojyo wanted to kiss him.

He nodded instead.

Pulling out, Gojyo got to his unsteady feet, forcibly tearing his eyes away from where his come trickled out of Cho’s ass, made even more obvious against his tattoos.

‘I’ve done what you wanted,’ Gojyo said, trying to sound callous and unconcerned. ‘Gotta have a gun or a knife or something or I can’t put him out of his misery.’

Banri was eyeing him with a look that Gojyo didn’t like, but he motioned for the camcorder trainee to hand over a weapon. Banri’s belt buckle was undone, Gojyo realised, and the idea of all these fuckers getting hard on watching them disgusted him more than anything else.

Gojyo stalked over to where the camcorder was. On the floor, Cho had curled up into a ball, shoulders hunched in an impressive show of defeat. More likely, he was making good work of the rope that bound his legs together. No one seemed to notice that he only had one hand fastened behind his back; Gojyo was going to offer incense at the temple tomorrow if they made it past the night.

He was being offered the knife. The trainee’s eyes were wary, his hands shaking a little as he regarded Gojyo. For a second there, Gojyo felt sorry for him. Then he flipped the knife and jabbed it into the crook of the trainee’s elbow, locking onto the crumpled weight in his arms and turning them over forcibly, just in time to use the body as a shield.

‘Sorry,’ Gojyo said, and he meant it. He could faintly remember this guy polishing shoes on the corridor of HQ, hair slicked back in the same ridiculous pomade, greeting him with a crisp, respectful bow. Unlucky bastard had had to run into Banri, otherwise he might still be making tea back at home, maybe fucking his girlfriend or talking to his mom.  
Gojyo drew the trainee’s pistol from where it’d been tucked into the back of his slacks. Three fast shots. Two to the foreheads of the jun-kosei-in as they were reloading, and one to Banri’s knee. The coward had already started running even before the bullets had begun to fly; he had an uncanny knack for sensing when things were about to go bad.

Gojyo fired again. It was a stray shot and Banri ducked behind the containers, hoarse cursing audible above the echoes ricocheting through the rafters. He looked around. Three dead bodies and no one else. But waitaminute, wasn’t there supposed to be—

Cold metal.

Fuck.

Gojyo closed his eyes—

—and opened them abruptly as the shot went off, leaving behind a burning sting on his cheek and tinnitus in his ears.  
Cho had hauled Banri’s last trainee back by the neck, disengaging the perfect aim he had at Gojyo’s temple. He ignored the struggling and tilted the man’s chin upwards with an almost loving caress. Then he cut his throat open, not even flinching back from the jet of arterial spray. He sank along with the body to the floor, all the fight dissipating out of him in one long shaky exhalation.

Gojyo snapped back to life.

‘Shit, _shit_.’ He rushed to Cho’s side, ignoring all protocol as he unbuttoned Cho’s shirt unceremoniously.

The skin underneath was everything and nothing like he’d expected. It was the norm to see yakuza covered in tattoos—hell, Gojyo’s was a masterpiece in itself— but when partnered with Cho’s clean-cut face, it was like the artist had gone out of his way to paint a beautiful paradox. There was a breathtaking woman over his heart, a face that Gojyo’d recognised as the ane that had been raped and murdered in gang violence a year or so back. Cho’s sister. There was sakura everywhere, and vines, twining together with a symbolism that Gojyo did not get. The dragon clawed its way over his shoulder, possessive, its impressive mane blocked by the brown-stained bandages across Cho’s midriff.

‘You can look later if you like,’ Cho said, with a strained laugh. Gojyo snapped out of his daze, stricken that he’d been caught ogling at the worst possible time. He wrapped his arm around Cho’s waist, hoisting him up as gently as Gojyo could. Cho’s lean musculature actually made him look deceptively light, but it was a lot harder getting him out of the warehouse than Gojyo’d expected. Thank fuck the door was switch-operated. A gust of wind swept past as they walked out, and Cho shivered and pressed closer to Gojyo’s heat.

There was a trail of blood on the floor where Banri had limped past. It led towards the docks. Gojyo could see a couple of lights there, but no shadows.

‘He’s left the truck,’ Cho said, pointing. ‘I think they have my coat in there.’

His coat really was in the backseat, a fine Burberry trench with an iPhone in its pocket. Gojyo helped Cho into it, face flushing warm at Cho’s grateful smile. Cho fastened the buckle with a satisfied tug, and if he cared about getting blood all over the camel-brown, his expression didn’t show it.

‘I’ll drive you to the hospital,’ Gojyo said, ‘you’d better—I think you should go for a check.’ His heart thumped against his ribcage like a bird trying to escape. His restless agitation had returned, and along with it came a strong sense of dread. Cho was safe now, but that didn’t mean anything for Gojyo.

Cho shook his head. ‘We don’t know who’s watching this car,’ he said. ‘I think it’ll be better if you could get us there while I make a call.’ He inclined his head towards the towers of Rainbow Bridge, illuminated by multi-coloured lights. The irony wasn’t entirely lost on Gojyo.

‘Yeah,’ he said, with much false optimism. ‘Of course I can.’

In reality, it took him longer than forty-five minutes to get them both onto the walkway safely, although Cho didn’t complain, not even when Gojyo’s ankle had given way to fatigue and he’d sent them both crashing down onto the ground.

Cars whizzing past in a blur of haloed light. The suspense was too much to bear.

Cho was still on his call.

‘Yes, I am aware of my irresponsibility, Father. I am safe now, my humblest apologies for making you concerned.’ He was talking to the _kumicho_ of Fujiwara-kai, Gojyo realised. Fuck, he was really in for it now.

‘Yes, Father. I have benefitted from this…fiasco.’ He threw a considering glance at Gojyo. ‘No, but I have knowledge of their next move.’ No weakness in his voice, cold and clipped and unfailingly polite like the best _saiko-komon_ any yakuza boss could hope to have. He must have been chosen in a heartbeat. Gojyo could see why.

‘Thank you, Father. I am on Rainbow Bridge. Please, if you don’t mind, hurry them for me.’

He waited until Cho hung up, before dropping to his knees in a deep, subservient kowtow.

‘Gojyo!’

He kept his forehead pressed to the pavement, even though the familiarity constricted itself around his chest like the vines on Cho’s skin.

‘I will present my finger to you when we return to Kyoto.’ Fuck, he was babbling. ‘Please accept my apology then.’  
Cho was standing right in front of him. Gojyo could see his boots.

‘Please get up,’ Cho said. ‘I want to touch your hair and I cannot bend over at present.’

Shocked, Gojyo raised his head and nearly jumped when Cho’s fingers carded through his fringe gently.

‘I remember you, you know,’ Cho said quietly. ‘I was fifteen then, and you were just a _jun-kosei-in_. This was before you participated in _sakazuki-goto_ with my cousin.’

‘Yeah?’ Gojyo swallowed. His throat was dry, but for a different reason.

‘Yes.’ In the city’s nightlights, Hakkai’s eyes were bright with intent. ‘You were running errands in the rain, and you came down with pneumonia after.’

‘Shit. I do remember that.’

‘Mm. Afterwards, I asked my father why he chose you as our spy. You must pardon my doubts, but you were young and inexperienced.’

Cho paused, like he was waiting for Gojyo’s forgiveness. With a start, Gojyo realised that he really was.

‘Uh, yeah sure. I mean. Don’t worry about it.’

Cho nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He motioned for Gojyo to stand up. ‘I didn’t understand what my father said then, but it makes perfect sense now.’

Gojyo complied, brushing off the dust on his knees. He’d spent way too much time on them today. ‘What did he say—er, that is, if I may ask?’

‘He said that you would uphold _giri_ with your life, but that you never forgot _ninjou_ where it counted. And that’s what sets you apart from the others.’

When did Cho move so close? Gojyo couldn’t focus on anything else, not even the compliment that had apparently been paid to him by his real _kumicho_ , back when he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing anything of significance.

‘I repay those values in kind, Gojyo,’ Cho said, barely above a whisper. Relief crashed over Gojyo in a voluminous wave.

‘I—’ He stuttered, much to Cho’s amusement.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Cho said, although his knowing smile belied that he might have an idea or two.  
In the end, it was the way his eyes kept flickering down to Gojyo’s lips that gave encouragement.

‘I was thinking that maybe I wasn’t in as much trouble as I’d thought,’ Gojyo said, ‘and also that I really should have kissed you. Earlier on.’

Cho’s laughter was delighted. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘You should have, I was hoping that you would. But perhaps you can make amends for that later on.’

A black Merc S-class flashed its hazard lights on. Its driver piled out with a bodyguard to stand at attention on the walkway.

‘Come home with me,’ Cho said, offering a hand to Gojyo. ‘There’s war counsel to attend tonight, but maybe tomorrow we can watch kabuki together.’

‘Sure,’ Gojyo said, because really, why not? His heart swelled for this man, with an adoration that only the yakuza could understand because it was too sudden, too crazy for the rest of the world.

Then, there was still the matter of his blown cover, and Banri’s disappearance, and the battle for Tokyo that was looming on the horizon, new territory just ripe for the taking. But for now, snug in the leather backseats of the car and on the way  
back to his beloved HQ, Gojyo really couldn’t bring himself to give a damn.

 

 

**Glossary**

Jun-kosei-in: Yakuza trainees, the lowest rank in the family

Kumicho: Family boss

Oyabun: Father role to a kobun or ‘child’ of the family. Could be a ‘child’ himself to a higher ranking member of the hierarchy. Offers the ‘child’ protection, advice, and work in exchange for servitude.

Saiko-komon: Head advisors of the family, directly below the kumicho. Main handlers of administration.

Yubitsume:The ritual act of cutting off a joint from the pinky finger as a form of apology or punishment.

Hanami: Japanese traditional custom of enjoying the beauty of flowers (sakura viewing in March-April)

Kumi-in: Soldiers, the working class of the yakuza. They handle almost all jobs that need to be done; driving, manning phones, supervising apprentices, patrolling territory etc.

Giri: Japanese value of duty or obligation. Defined as ‘to serve one’s superiors with a self-sacrificing devotion’.

Shingiin: Legal advisors of the family

Kaikei: Accountants of the family

Ushiro-takatekote: Basic or foundational kinbaku form of binding breasts and arms, with both hands fastened at the back.

Ane: Elder sister, respectful address for a woman higher up in the hierarchy.

Sakazuki-goto: Adoption ceremony for the oyabun-kobun relationship. Consists of participants taking turns drinking from the same cup.

Ninjou: Human emotion or compassion. Traditionally depicted theatrically as a conflicting value to Giri.

 

 


End file.
